


quiet little monsters (creep into my head)

by alsoalsowik



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: (but not in a survival way), Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Jyn-centric, Sharing Body Heat, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-01-05
Packaged: 2018-09-15 02:50:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9215438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsoalsowik/pseuds/alsoalsowik
Summary: In her days recovering in the med bay --and in all the ones that come after, really -- Jyn finds herself chasing the warmth of that beach on Scarif.or, Jyn deals with surviving.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a little longer than what I've previously written for rebelcaptain, but it just kept going, ya know? Enjoy, and please leave a comment or even send me a prompt on Tumblr (baenakinskywalker)!

In her days recovering in the med bay --and in  _all_  the ones that come after, really -- Jyn finds herself chasing the warmth of that beach on Scarif. Her cot is cold in that clean, clinical way that makes her skin crawl. To make matters worse, Jyn doesn’t even get the luxury of human contact. Her sole companion for two weeks is a droid.

“You’re lucky you passed out on Scarif,” it says, in an attempt at small talk on her first day conscious. Jyn’s injuries, it turns out, are more intense than the adrenaline of that day allowed her to feel: broken ribs, nerve damage in her legs, a nearly-collapsed lung, and more scorched skin than anyone needs.

She nods curtly and shivers. They’ve got her in a paper-thin gown to tend to her skin grafts more easily and Jyn is, decidedly, not a fan. It’s not like she isn’t used to the cold, because she is. Valt and Lah’mu both were oftentimes freezing and wet, bone chilling nearly all year long. Jyn was born in ice and exiled in dampness.

It’s different, now.

On Scarif, ready to die, Jyn experienced the first true warmth she’d known her entire life: Cassian Andor’s arms around her. He radiated heat that day, holding her close and breathing into her neck for what they both thought was the last time.

In the med bay, Jyn is completely and utterly alone. She’s no stranger to loneliness, but sharing such a near death experience with someone forges a connection faster than anything Jyn’s ever known. Cassian’s still in bacta when she’s finally released.

(“Fractured spine, Miss,” an overly-polite droid tells Jyn when she asks. Cassian would prefer K-2, she thinks after her heart recovers from hearing the words  _fractured_  and  _spine_  together.)

Naturally, if not unfortunately, her bunk is far from him. Barracks lie across the base from the injured -- an attempt at boosting morale? -- which doesn’t lend itself easily to visiting a recovering...Jyn isn’t sure what to call Cassian. Friend seems too casual for what they’ve been through, but they haven’t had the time to establish much else.

She settles for partner, in the broadest sense of the word.

Nights are the hardest. During the days, Jyn trains to be a pilot, desperate to do something useful. Anything to take her mind off of her almost-death and Cassian, stuck in that bacta tank with a broken back. Exhaustion sinks in by the evening but fades to weariness by the time she’s in bed. Shivering, Jyn curls into the smallest possible ball in the center of her bunk. It’s then that the cold takes over.

Suddenly, she’s back on Scarif -- alone. Instead of blistering humid heat, it’s like ice. Jyn sees Cassian, far, far away from her, falling off of that platform. He doesn’t get up, and she’s whisked away to the beach before she can check to see if he’s okay. 

On the beach, body numb, Jyn sees everyone around her completely still. The members of Rogue One -- the fighters  _she_  convinced of putting their lives on the line -- lie scattered around her. Bodhi’s lifeless hand clutches at a uselessly at a comlink. Baze and Chirrut are at opposite ends of the beach, arms stretched out like they’re looking for each other. All of the other fighters are strewn about the beach in various states of blood and goriness. Every last one of them, dead. 

Just as that bright light starts over the horizon, nearly freezing her in place, Jyn catches a flash of brown hair out of the corner of her eye. Her head whips around and her breath catches. She can feel the bile rising in her throat as she takes in Cassian Andor, lying on his side, statuesque, but contorted in the most unnatural way. His eyes are wide open but flat and lifeless. Jyn screams while whiteness and nothing take over.

Just like most night, she wakes up crying and drenched in sweat, despite her shaking. 

It goes on like this -- the exact same dream --  for three days in a row, until Cassian is released. Jyn hasn’t been allowed to see him, so she overhears the news in the halls of the base. Something like hope and terror all at once catches in her throat. It’s been nearly three weeks since she’s seen him; they haven’t had the chance to process the fact that they made it off Scarif yet. 

Maybe, Jyn hopes, that’ll be enough to stop the nightmares. 

When night falls the next day, Jyn doesn’t go to her bunk. instead, she roams the halls of the barracks, searching for Cassian. It takes a solid half hour -- she doesn’t spend a lot of time outside of her room or the hangar, after all -- but as she’s turning the last possible corner, Jyn sees the lettering she’s looking for: ANDOR. 

She isn’t even totally sure he’s inside when she raps on the heavy door. The longest thirty seconds later, it slides open and Jyn is face to face with a very alive, if not a little pale, Cassian Andor. He looks down at her with furrowed brows. 

“Jyn?”

Gods, does it feel good to hear her name from someone other than those damn med droids. 

“I can’t sleep,” she says, unable to think of a better ice-breaker. “Rather, I don’t  _want_ to sleep.” It’s an unnecessary clarification; he’s already moved out of the way to let her into his room. 

It’s just barely bigger than her own, with only a pair of boots and neatly folded pile of clothes indicating someone lives here. A door off to the left leads to a refresher, Jyn thinks. It occurs to her that she’s standing in the middle of Cassian’s room, not saying anything. 

“Do you want to talk?” Cassian asks, resting a hand on her shoulder. Fire burns from her shoulder blade all the way to the base of her spine. Jyn must have forgotten what a luxury human touch was. 

“No. I mean, yes! Just,” she pauses, trying to phrase the thoughts in her head better, “not right now.”

He nods. “Okay. What do you want, Jyn?”

“To sleep.” Jyn’s words come out more like a strangled sob than she’d like, but before she can say another word, Cassian has her by the hand, leading her to his bunk. 

He pulls back the thin blanket and crawls in, back to the wall. Jyn shucks off her boots, resting them beside Cassian’s, and follows. She faces him, their foreheads nearly touching. He looks tired. She feels tired. But there are still so many things to --

“We can talk in the morning?” Cassian offers, reaching out to join their hands. 

“Yes, that sounds...good. Tomorrow.”Jyn has so much she wants to say, from asking about his recovery to discussing the simple fact that they’re  _alive_ , but here, staring into Cassian’s eyes, she knows it can wait. It will wait. 

His other hand grabs for her waist, drawing Jyn even closer. Eyes drooping, he murmurs something in a language she’s never heard before. It’s soothing, whatever it is, and as her breathing evens out and sleep comes, she feels perfectly warm.

(There are no nightmares that night, just images of Cassian pressed even  _closer_  against her, whispering those foreign words in her ear over and over again. Jyn feels an entirely different kind of warmth when she wakes, back pressed to Cassian’s chest, his arm flung over her waist like the best kind of restraint.)

**Author's Note:**

> was he saying "te amo"? we may never know ;)


End file.
